And That is Why the Lord Created Men
by Sohara von Salienta
Summary: My name is Gilderoy Lockhart and I am perfect. I magnetically and magically attract the love of every sane human being, as well as that offer from that one wizard with a really good imagination who unfortunately lives in Bangkok.


_Disclaimer: If you can spot song lyrics in here, they are from The Scarlet Pimpernel. If not, then that is just as well._   
  
My name is Gilderoy Lockhart and I am perfect.   
  
And goodness, do I enjoy it.   
  
It is quite simple, really. I'm one of those maddenly gorgeous beings who have clearly only been put on this earth to torment the other imperfect beings with the sight of the unreachable beauty before them. Added to that, I am the five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award_, the author of exactly seventy-nine books, including eight books that are used as school-books at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sundry household aids, and the truest and most wonderful autobiography ever written: _Magical Me_. I have had numerous letters of witches that detail to me just exactly what they fantasize about when they ogle those thirty pages of high-gloss color photos. And then there was that one letter from that wizard with a really good imagination, but he unfortunately lives in Bangkok.   
  
However, it is not the sole point of my life to explain to you that Madame Gladys Quersting of York has charmed my image onto her teacups or that Mrs. Molly Weasley's dearest dream would be for me to aid her in de-gnoming her garden and for me to give her the recipe of that wonderful potion that adds that extra wave to my hair, even though the latter is most impressive and, judging from the picture she included, she does indeed need it. No. I am going to explain to you exactly why I am perfect.   
  
I have accomplished the extraordinary. I have descended into the Chamber of Secrets by the sole aid of my extensive knowledge and my deduction and problem-solving skills, as well as a truly brilliant use of magic. Among all of the teachers in this school, I was the one chosen to descend into the Chamber to save the life of an innocent first-year student who has been whisked away by the Monster of the Chamber. Here I stand, alone and fearless and armed with naught but a wand and really great robes, if I do say so myself. Designer robes. I have a personnel department that does nothing but pick out my clothes. And they do a wonderful job of it, if I do say so myself. They have even given me an excess of lilac robes.   
  
Lilac looks wonderful on me.   
  
I must remember to appear in more public gatherings, so as to do the world some good and to possibly take the world's mind off of things like hunger and starvation and pellagra.   
  
I wonder if that would merit the Order of Merlin.   
  
Probably.   
  
Which in turn would probably merit placement of my biography and stunning picture on a Chocolate Frog card.   
  
Note to gorgeous self: acquire the Order of Merlin.

Severus Snape will never acquire the Order of Merlin.   
  
It is his fault, anyway. No one with any taste whatsoever would dare to insult my peaky dress sense or my closet. In the next book I write, I must remember to mention something about rescuing Severus Snape from something evil, like pixies.   
  
Pixies.   
  
Shudder.   
  
Severus Snape and pixies.   
  
Snicker.   
  
Very good plan, that is. Note to increasingly gorgeous self: lock Severus Snape in a broom closet with an uncaged mess of rabid pixies.   
  
I hope their bites cause blue bumps.   
  
I am not normally a revengeful person, mind. I am perfect. I simply carry a tiny grudge about people who send idiotic comments my way, ones that state that I am a dressy priss with nothing else on his mind besides clothing and hair.   
  
Because it is quite untrue. I spend lots of time on my teeth. That is the reason that they do not look as if I have been eating my own nasty potions concoctions.   
  
But my response to his rudeness was quite poised and spectacular. I simply informed him that _someone_ had to strike a pose and bear the weight of well-tailored clothes. And _that_ is why the Lord created men.   
  
Not, as he seems to think, to produce enough hair-grease to oil down the door-knobs of every blasted door in this castle.   
  
That is probably where Filch gets his cleaning supplies from, come to think of it.   
  
Ick.   
  
I will return to why I am perfect.   
  
This, by the way, exists only in my brain, but I will immediately proceed to write it down once I have defeated the Monster and return the Weasley child to her family. But I will prevail! I will succeed! I am GILDEROY LOCKHART THE MAGNIFICENT!!   
  
That was a rather loud bang.   
  
Oh, my. Who is that tallish creature standing there? I am sure I have never seen him before. He has clearly never paid attention to his hair. It is orange.   
  
I wonder if he lives here.   
  
That would explain his hair. I see no mirrors.   
  
What if I am imprisoned down here? I do not remember getting here. How am I expected to survive in a place without mirrors?   
  
Dum-dee-dum. I am blissfully happy, twiddling that rat skull around my forefinger. Rats have interesting skulls.   
  
Ow!   
  
Why did he kick me? I was sitting here peacefully, twiddling my rat skull, and the orange-haired torture device takes it upon himself to kick me. That settles it. I am in a torture chamber. First the outrage of his hair, now the kicking…   
  
_Ow__!_   
  
I feel a whine coming on.


End file.
